Will Not Fade
by laloga
Summary: "Ask me now, I'll give you the reasons my love will not fade, through the fire and rain." A series of romantic vignettes between a clone trooper and a bounty hunter turned "transportation specialist." Mostly fluff. OCs and M/M pairing.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! This is the first installment of a vignette collection I'm sporadically working on. Updates will be at random intervals, but I wanted to share this first part with y'all today. :) Still not sure where/when all these will fit into my timeline (s). If it's important to the viggie, I'll let you know. Mostly this is just an excuse for fluff.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars and am making no cash, credits, ingots, or bling of any kind from the writing & posting of this. All OCs are mine, however, and if you'd like to use them, please see the note on my profile. Thanks! Title and summary quote are from "Fire & Rain," by Matt Kearney, on _City of Black and White._

One last thing: As stated in the summary, this series centers on a romantic relationship between two adult males. If that bothers you, I recommend looking elsewhere for your entertainment.

Otherwise, happy reading! :)

* * *

1.

Even half-asleep, Traxis recognized that he had never heard this song before. The slowly building melody tugged on the edges of his consciousness, gently urging him to open his eyes and wake. He complied after a moment's resistance, because the bunk was soft and he was comfortable, but even that pleasure would pale when compared to the male who would be beside him.

But when his eyes finally did open, Traxis realized he was alone in the cabin of the _Stark Raven_; there was only a faint impression in the mattress left by his Twi'lek lover. He would have frowned, but for the music.

It trickled from the direction of the galley, a sure sign that Ares was there, too, so Trax swung his legs out of the bunk and made his way out of the cabin. He didn't bother to throw on any clothes over his bare _shebs_; modesty was never one of his strong suits. Besides, he didn't think Ares would mind. He sure as kriff hadn't minded last night.

When Traxis palmed the galley door open, the music's volume increased exponentially, pouring out of the small space that it had already filled to bursting. If the lilting melody had not been so pleasant, Traxis might have been annoyed. But Ares had, among other things, excellent taste, and the clone had never found much to complain about with his companion's musical choices.

He had nothing to complain about, actually.

Ares' back was to the galley door as he stood before one of the galley counters. Like most light freighters of its class, the _Stark Raven _had been designed to make use maximum use of minimal space; appliances, like the conservator and sanitizer, were tucked neatly within the bulkhead, and a narrow rectangular table at the center of the room served as both dining and prep table. It was here the coral-skinned Twi'lek stood.

Ares was deceptively slender, but Trax knew the strength within his lithe frame. Knew it pretty kriffing well, in fact, but always enjoyed a good bout of rediscovery. Unlike the clone, Ares wore a faded cotton shirt, a pair of briefs that clung to his muscular buttocks, and – to Trax's amusement – a pair of black socks.

Judging from the motion of his arms and his swaying _lekku, _the Twi'lek was working the caf-press that he was so fardling fond of; he claimed the thing was the only proper way to drink caf. Trax had never used the device, but had often watched Ares push against the caf-press's lid to extract the drink from the grounds. Privately, he thought it was a lot of effort to expend when one could simply press a button on the percolator, but he couldn't deny the final result was always worth the wait. He inhaled deeply, savoring the rich scent.

Heedless of his audience, Ares began to sing, picking up exactly when the vocals of the song came in. His Ryl accent added a pleasing undercurrent to the music, and he swayed his hips as he sang and reached for one of two mugs he had on hand.

Just when Trax opened his mouth to announce himself, Ares turned, mug in his grasp and a crooked smile on his face, one that widened when he realized Traxis was in his vat suit. Ares stepped to Trax and pressed the mug in his hand, though he lingered with a kiss against the side of Trax's mouth.

He tilted his head so that his _lekku _fell to one side and spoke in Traxis' ear so the words would be discernible through the music. "Good morning."

As he spoke, his lips feathered Trax's ear and Traxis forgot all about the caf. Heat coursed through his veins at even the mild contact, and his body responded accordingly, more so when Ares' grin widened. The music was too kriffing loud; Trax didn't want to shout to be heard, so he contented himself with resting his free hand on Ares' waist and pulling him in for a proper kiss. _Good morning._

Yes, it most definitely was.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

"Move your lazy _shebs_, you fekking _di'kut_!"

Ares winced and glanced up from the lounge table, where he'd been tinkering with one of the energy conversion cells from the hyperdrive. Traxis was seated at the sofa's edge, elbows resting on his bent knees, every line of his body fixed on the vidscreen before him. The only sound were the shouts and whistles emanating from the screen, on which some bolo-ball match or another was being played.

Evidently it was an important one.

Trax threw up his hands. "What the ever-loving fek was that? You _had _that effing goal!" He twisted around to face Ares, jabbing his forefinger at the offending player. "Do you believe this _osik_?"

"It's..." Ares searched for an appropriately outraged word. "Egregious," he said at last, shaking his head to emphasize the point. "A travesty of epic proportions."

He tried, but failed to keep the smile from his lips. Trax rolled his eyes and turned back to the screen, where the two teams were getting ready for another play. Or perhaps they'd just made one. It was difficult for Ares to tell. Several dozen sentinents running around in various, brightly colored jerseys all looked the same to him.

With Traxis otherwise occupied Ares got a little lost in his tinkering, and for a few minutes, the _Raven's_ lounge was relatively quiet. The hyperdrive had been causing Ares no shortage of headaches lately, but he was reluctant to shell out the cash for a new one. The EC cells were finicky, but with the right care, they could last forever.

Just as he was setting the ion-field calibration, Traxis let out a whoop that shook the bulkhead and jumped straight up, both arms lifted in triumph while the green-clad players on the vidscreen embraced in a massive group hug.

"Suck it, Eltair!" Trax trumpeted, practically dancing in place. "Ah, I hope to _haran _Stonewall saw that play. The _di'kut's_ been gloating about their last win all _week."_

"I take it your team did something, ah, admirable?"

Traxis grinned. It was Ares' favorite smile on him: wide and without reservation. "Yeah, you could say that. Dremm just scored. If they win this game, they'll go on to the finals," he added, his chest puffing up in sheer pride. "They have a real shot at the Galactic Cup."

Well, that was all gibberish to Ares, but he nodded anyway. "How much more of the game is there?"

The joy fled Trax's face, replaced with apprehension as he frowned back at the screen. "About six minutes. Kriff, I hope they don't fek around. They're tied; if the game goes into free-kicks, Eltair will probably win. Dremm's got to keep this momentum if they're going to score again."

The energy conversion cell could wait. Ares set down his tools and crossed the room to the sofa, where Trax had dropped to sit. He plopped beside the clone and faced the screen, where the players were scrambling after a small, white ball. "Dremm is in green?"

"Yeah. Eltair's in that obnoxious purple. See the goalkeeper there?" Trax pointed to one of the figures, and Ares nodded. "He's the best in the galaxy, hands down. Dremm's lucky to have him."

_I know the feeling. _Ares nodded again and leaned closer to the screen. It all looked like a hopeless muddle, but at least now he knew which color to keep his eyes on. Seemingly without thinking, Traxis slung his arm around Ares' shoulders and leaned his head close to Ares' left _lek_. He'd not shaved since this morning, and the faint scrape of stubble against the sensitive _lek _sent a thrill through Ares' entire body.

"That referee's been acting like a real _shabuir, _though," Trax continued, indicating an Ithorian in black who was gamely running after the players. "He's throwing out warnings left and kriffing right, and most of them are for Dremm..."

The hand on Ares' shoulders tightened as Traxis trailed off, his body going tense. On the screen, the players were darting across the field, the pack of them hurtling toward what Ares imagined to be a rather nervous goalkeeper. Everything was a blur of green and purple, with the occasional flash of white from the ball.

"Alright, _chakaare, _this is your last effing chance," Trax muttered. "Come the kriff on."

Ares squinted in an effort to get a sense of what was happening. The green-clad players were angling to score a goal, and judging by the countdown, this would likely be the last opportunity.

The goalkeeper crouch low in anticipation; Traxis leaned forward as well, mirroring the stance. "Come on..."

Trax's body was tense beside him, eyes fixed on the screen while the hand around Ares' shoulder twined in the fabric of his shirt like he was hanging on for dear life. The players swarmed around the ball, just steps from the goal, and Trax's free hand, resting on his knee, tightened into a fist. Ares covered it with his own and Trax immediately laced their fingers together.

One of the green-clad players broke free, dove for the ball – feet-first – and slammed it into the goal. The crowd cheered.

Or so Ares assumed. The next thing he knew, he'd been pulled to his feet by his exuberant companion as Trax whooped again, then swept Ares into a bruising kiss that made his head spin. For the duration he couldn't hear anything but his own heart pounding against his ribs as Traxis kissed the kriffing daylights out of him. When they parted, Trax's grin was broad and his eyes crinkled, and he laughed in sheer delight.

"I take it Dremm won?" Ares managed to gasp.

"Yeah, they effing won," Traxis said, and embraced the Twi'lek again in a fierce hug. "I fekking _knew _they could. I didn't want to hope, but I _knew _they had it in 'em._" _When he pulled back, he gave Ares an anxious look. "The next game is a week from today. I don't know how I'll survive until then."

"I'll help you." Ares skimmed a hand through the glossy black fringe of Trax's hair, before pulling him in for another kiss. "I think I rather like this 'bolo-ball' of yours, anyway."

Somehow, Traxis' smile widened.

* * *

A/N: This viggie is dedicated to **impoeia**, who inspired me to pay attention to the World Cup this time around. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Warmest, if belated, lifeday wishes to my wonderful beta, **impoeia**. This one's for you. :)

* * *

3.

Traxis wrinkled his nose as he surveyed the piles of junk that loomed on all sides. The kriffing air stank of old fuel and engine oil, and he regretted leaving his kit back on the _Stark Raven. _"What are you looking for, again?"

Something clattered to his right as Ares untangled a length of durasteel cable from one of the many mountains of garbage. "Alluvial dampers," the Twi'lek said as he wrapped the cable vertically around his forearm. "I've been needing to replace the _Raven's _for some time."

"Can't you buy those?"

Cable secure, Ares placed it in the anti-grav sled they'd rented from the salvage yard. "You can buy anything, provided you have the creds. Which, sadly, I do not."

Traxis peered into the sled. Ares had already amassed quite a collection of...stuff, most of which he couldn't make head or _shebs _of. "But you had to pay a fee to come dig around through this fekking place."

"A small fee, considering the money to be saved. I intend to get my creds' worth and fill this sled to the brim." Ares swiped his jacket sleeve over his damp forehead and cast Trax an apologetic smile. "Ah, but I know this wasn't how you hoped the evening would go. I promise to be finished soon, and then we can get dinner. But invitations to Kuat Salvage Yards are few and far between, and I'd rather not miss this chance."

"Plus you need those...allowable damp-things."

Ares chuckled. "Only if I want to keep flying."

Nodding, Traxis looked around again. Kriffing hell, this place was a mess. _Crest would be right at home. _"What do the damper-things look like? Maybe if we split up, we'll have a better shot at finding them." _And at getting out of this effing junkyard sooner. _

The only reply was a swift curse in Huttese, followed by a horrific screech of metal on metal. Always expecting an ambush, Trax whirled, reaching for the blaster at his hip, but it was only Ares, balanced on two wobbling, massive hunks of ship in an effort to pull some other effing hunk of ship free from the pile of _osik. _The _di'kut _was going to break his fardling neck pulling stunts like that, all to save a few creds. Trax sighed and went to help.

Except he didn't count on the whatever-it-was being effing _covered _in sticky, black fluid that stank of plasma. Gritting his teeth, Trax yanked with all he was worth in an effort to free the hunk of garbage. After a few moments it slipped loose, causing him and Ares to stumble back into the dust.

Fek, his hands were covered in this _osik, _and Trax scowled as he wiped them on his fatigues. Meanwhile, Ares held a knot of tangled wires and sensor nodes as if it were a trophy.

At Traxis' dark look, he held up the mess and grinned. "Can you believe it?"

"What the frag is that thing?"

"A treson cluster." Ares examined the wires' ends lovingly before placing the mess into the sled. "Very rare. _Very _valuable." He turned his smile onto Traxis. "I've never found anything like that on my own. I should bring you on all my salvage trips."

_No fekking way. _

Even so, it was kind of impossible to be annoyed when Ares looked at him like _that_, so Traxis tried to sound nonchalant, despite his own stupid, _shabla _grin. "As long as I can get you naked, after. Now, what do those damper-things look like, again?"

* * *

A few minutes later, Traxis wandered alone through stacks of old starship parts. Some were no taller than himself, composed of hundreds – thousands? – of bits and pieces; others were massive hunks of hulls and bulkheads that reached into the domed atmosphere of the floating salvage yard. He stopped before a promising pile of cylinders – Ares had shown him pics of what they were searching for – and knelt to get a better look at the ones on the outer edges. Garbage, all of it, at least in his eyes. If he'd come across any of it on his own, he'd have tossed it into the nearest incinerator.

But Ares loved this _osik_ for some reason, so Traxis resolved to find the alluvial damp-things if it took him all kriffing day. Traxis' hands were already coated in grime; a little more wouldn't hurt. He began to root through the pile, mentally checking each object against the image in his brain.

_Too small. Too round. Too pointy. Too...sparkly? _Something gleamed in the corner of his eye. Beneath a few layers of metallic plates was some kind of pale blue crystal, mounted into a carbon casing. Of course, this thing was filthy as well, but it looked intriguing and wasn't too large, so Trax shoved it in his pocket and continued his search.

For hours. Well, it fekking _felt _like hours, though his chrono told him it was more like one hour; the yard would be closing soon. He was covered in grime and grease, and every breath was filled with the stink of this _shabla _place, such that Traxis figured he'd be smelling fuel and oil for kriffing days.

And it was all for nothing. Trax had failed in his task; not one kriffing damper could be found in this karking place. With a heavy heart, he made his way back to where he and Ares had agreed to meet. At first glance, his Twi'lek companion had fared no better. Worse, actually, given that every piece of normally coral-colored skin was mottled with something black and sticky, and he smelled like the wrong end of a ronto.

"What'd the fek did you get into?" Traxis covered his mouth and nose as he approached Ares, who stood beside a now-full grav sled, examining his findings. _Shab. _His hand stank too, but at this point it was the lesser of two evils.

Ares' brow furrowed as he studied what looked like a power-pack. "One of the fuel cylinders I found was home to a family of skrats. They reacted rather, ah, severely to my intrusion."

Luckily, Trax was excellent at suppressing his gag-reflex. "Do me a favor and keep your hands to yourself until you've showered, okay?"

Nodding, Ares looked at Traxis' empty hands and his _lekku _seemed to droop. "I take it you did not find any dampers?"

"I'm sorry," Traxis said, and meant it. "You didn't, either?"

"Our luck ran out early, I suppose." Ares sighed and set the salvaged power-pack into the cart. "Ah, well. That treson cluster will fetch a nice price once it's cleaned up. I can put the money toward some used alluvial dampers." He gave Traxis an amused look. "You are ready to leave, yes?"

"Ready, and then some." Traxis tried to keep his voice light, but didn't do such a great job.

But Ares, in his way, took it all in stride and activated the sled, now weighed down with their findings. It took both of them to maneuver the sled through the mountains of junk, and it was not until they'd nearly reached the entrance to the yard that Traxis remembered the weird crystal-thing.

Keeping one hand on the sled's handle, he dug the other in his pocket. "I found this; is it anything you can use?"

The sled halted as Ares faced him, brown eyes flickering between the crystal-thing and Trax's face as his mouth hung open and his _lekku _twitched as they did when he got _really _excited. He was silent for a second, then, to Trax's surprise, let loose a short, delighted burst of laughter and made to embrace Traxis, though he held himself in check.

"So...you know what the kriff it is?" Traxis asked. "I just thought it looked interesting."

"Interesting, indeed." Ares grinned, white teeth flashing amid whatever unpleasantness the skrats had sprayed all over his face. "Interesting to the tune of a few thousand creds."

"A few thousand..." Traxis turned the crystal so it winked in the artificial lights, set high above their heads. "What the _shab _is this fekking thing?"

"A vannan crystal," Ares said as Trax handed it over for him to examine. He pulled back his coat to rub the worst of the dirt off and onto his relatively clean shirt. "I've never seen one outside of a few, specialized dealers in, ah, less-than-legal auctions. A single one went for four thousand, and it was quite a bidding war. "

Traxis leaned against the grav sled's handle. "What can it do on your ship?"

"Nothing." Ares shot him a wry look as he handed the crystal back. "The _Raven's _sensors aren't compatible with most crystalline tech. It's the sort of thing you'd find on a yacht or a pleasure-barge."

He made to push the sled again, but Trax remained where he stood, frowning at the crystal.

"Traxis?"

"Why'd you give it back to me?"

Ares tilted his head in confusion. "It belongs to you, Trax." His lips quirked into his crooked smile. "Have you never heard of 'finders, keepers?'"

"What the fek am I going to do with this hunk of junk? Here." He shoved the crystal back in Ares' grime-coated hands.

"Are you quite certain?"

"Yes, I'm kriffing certain." Trax rolled his eyes. "Sell it and buy the _Raven_ some fancy new allowable damp-things."

Ares glanced at the crystal, but his gaze was drawn back to Traxis. "I hardly know what to say."

It was Trax's turn to grin. "Maybe you can thank me good and hard when we get cleaned up."

"There will be no 'maybe' about it, Traxis."

Kriff, Ares' lilting accent had deepened, the edges of it rough with desire even as his eyes were wide and his smile was filled with promise. Traxis turned for the sled again, more eager than ever to get back to the ship.

Only to be jolted by a resounding _smack_ that left a blackish-brown handprint across his ass. Had anyone else done so, Trax would have erupted into a rage. But he only chuckled and cast a look back at his Twi'lek companion, who still grinned like the damn, gorgeous _di'kut _he was.

"That a preview?" Trax asked. Fek, he _loved _it when Ares got rough.

Ares laughed and came beside him, tucking the crystal in his jacket-pocket. "Just so. I could not help myself."

Traxis smiled as they began to push the sled. "Lucky for me."

"No, my friend," Ares said, quietly. "I'm the lucky one."


	4. Chapter 4

This installment is also dedicated to **impoeia, **especially since she gave me the idea for the subject matter. Enjoy! :)

* * *

4.

Seated on the bed, Ares fastened the final buttons on his shirt as Traxis emerged from the 'fresher. The scarred soldier always took his breath away, more so when Trax was naked as the day he was vatted, wearing only a lazy, satisfied grin.

"Everything is well?" Ares asked.

Traxis' eyes gleamed and he came to stand before Ares, hands resting on his muscular hips. "Everything is kriffing perfect."

_Indeed, it is. _The bed shifted as Trax settled down beside him, and Ares stopped getting dressed in favor of running his hand through the clone's damp hair. It was generally the only part of Trax that was soft; the rest of him was all hard lines and muscle, but his hair was silky smooth and delicious against Ares' palm. With a sigh, Trax shut his eyes and allowed his features to relax beneath Ares' touch.

This, too, was a rare sight, and Ares savored every part of it.

They lay together for a few minutes before a gurgling sort of snarl broke the silence of the cabin.

"Fekking hell," Trax muttered, scowling even in repose.

Ares chuckled as he sat up. "Yes, it's past dinner time. We lost track of the hours, somehow."

One light-brown eye cracked open. "Worth it."

"I thought we could go out. Would that be alright?" They were still near the Kuat Salvage Yard, but there was an orbital station nearby that catered to travelers.

Traxis opened both eyes and regarded Ares. "Sure. But..." He frowned and rolled over, giving Ares quite a pleasant view of his backside. "Where are my spare fatigues? The ones I had on before are farkled."

"As I recall, you ripped them in the process of getting undressed, but said it didn't matter, because you'd never need them again."

"Oh, yeah." Traxis rolled on his back again and grinned at the memory. "Well, I have my kit."

Parading around a grubby, Outer-Rim tapcaf in gleaming white plastoid would likely draw much unwanted attention. Ares leaned down and skimmed his lips over Trax's jawline. "Or you could wear, ah, something else."

Traxis shivered. "I don't have anything else." He brushed the back of his hand against _tchun,_ Ares' left _lek, _and dropped the pitch of his voice. "Guess that means we're eating in. I know what I want."

Kriff; he'd already had Trax several ways, but it was never enough. Heat rushed through Ares' body, coalescing in his _lekku _as well as much farther south, but he held his desire in check. For now, at any rate. "I might have something you could borrow."

Before Traxis could object – or further corrode his resolve – Ares rose and hit a panel on the wall, which opened into his makeshift closet. He withdrew one of several duraplast bars that held his clothes, and began to rifle through the shirts at the back of the row.

"My sister sent me these," he said as he pulled the shirts free. "Someone else gave them to her husband, but they were too small for him and, as it happened, too large for me."

By now, Trax sat cross-legged on the bed, watching Ares with interest, though when he caught sight of the shirts, he frowned. "I've never worn civvie clothes."

"Give them a try." Ares tossed the shirts on the bed and began to search for a suitable pair of trousers. "Your boots should work. I don't have any spare, ah, undergarments, though."

"I can go without." There was a smirk in Trax's voice as the clone shrugged into the cotton shirt. "It's not like we wear skivvies beneath our body-gloves."

"I remember," Ares replied, chuckling. He found the pants and pulled them free, eying them against Trax's frame before setting them down on the bed and stepping to the 'fresher.

When he emerged, when he caught sight of his scarred soldier, his breath caught. The shirt was plain cotton, and while it had probably been too tight around Elpenor's chest and shoulders, it fit Traxis like it was made for him. It highlighted his torso and arms without clinging, and the deep indigo color made his caramel-colored skin seem to glow. The pants were also plain, a deep-brown, loose enough to allow Trax to move freely while providing a hint of his muscular frame beneath.

Coupled with Trax's scars and raven-dark hair, the effect was devastating.

Oblivious, Trax tucked the hem into the tops of his boots. "How effing silly do I look? I feel ridiculous."

"You look..." Ares' mouth went dry as Trax stood up and rested his hands on his hips.

The scarred clone glanced down at his body, still frowning. "They fit okay, I guess, but it's just...weird to not wear fatigues or my kit." He looked back at Ares, brow furrowed with uncertainty when he caught the Twi'lek's expression. "It's bad, isn't it? _Shab_. Never had to worry about this _osik _before..."

"Trax." The desire Ares had managed to keep at bay flooded back, more so when he smoothed his hands down Trax's shoulders and rested them at the clone's hips."You look," he said carefully, holding Trax's gaze, "good enough to eat."

"Yeah?"

Heat flushed through both _lekku _at the sight of that smile. Ares nodded. "Frankly, it's all I can do not to rip off those clothes, though I realize that defeats the purpose."

All uncertainty fled Trax's face, replaced with a wicked grin. He pressed his body – all of it – against Ares' and tilted his head up to skim his teeth over Ares' left _lek. _"Well, we can't have that."

Kriff, he knew just how to touch the _lek. _Trax knew exactly what pushed Ares' buttons and sent him into hyperspace, and he shuddered beneath his soldier's supple mouth. "No, I suppose not," Ares managed, breathlessly.

Trax's chuckle against his skin was deep. "It's settled, then," he murmured. "We're eating in."


End file.
